


As Far As I Can Go

by irkenfens



Category: Star Trek
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irkenfens/pseuds/irkenfens
Summary: After the events of "a sequence that you never learned", Jim and Spock are happily married with two wonderful children. If only they could make everyone on the Enterprise as content as they are.





	As Far As I Can Go

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [a sequence that you never learned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077361) by [annataylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annataylor/pseuds/annataylor). 



Above all else, Jim was grateful. Grateful for the Enterprise and her crew, grateful for his Vulcans, grateful for his friends and the wonderful memories they’d made in nearly five years. In six months the five year mission would draw to a close, and they all could feel it. So much had changed since the mission with Fel’Ra and Jalloh, nearly a year ago, but there were many things that remained constant. Jim and Spock were even more in love than when they’d gotten married (the second time), if that was even possible. According to Spock, Sorek’s intelligence had finally surpassed Jim’s, a fact that caused Jim to swell with pride for his son. T’Maia, at just seven years old, was the baby of the family and the darling of the ship, charming everyone she met.  It was a comfortable life they had built, a life that Jim was grateful for every day. In spite of the risks he often took, Jim was acutely aware of the fact that he and Spock had raised their family in the face of danger and against such overwhelming odds. And, just as much as he was grateful, Jim tried not to think of how, in six short months, the S’chn T’gai Kirks would have to leave the Enterprise and the five year mission behind and embark on a new adventure.

-

“Keptain on ze bridge!”

Chekov’s voice rang out amid the bustle of the shift change. The gamma crew, tired from their early morning, were eagerly filing past the alpha crew and into the turbo, chatting amongst themselves on their way to the cafeteria for lunch. At the same time, the alpha shift officers, many of them senior crew members, streamed from the turbo, ready for their six hour shift. Uhura strolled in, laughing with Sulu. The pair passed Scotty, on his way out, and Sulu held out his hand for a high five while Uhura gave him a grin.

As soon as the crew registered Chekov’s words they snapped to attention as Jim strode onto the bridge, winking and grinning at his crew and his friends.

“At ease, folks!” Jim laughed as he strode over to the captain’s chair, and the momentary silence burst like a bubble as the crew resumed their laughter and continued to bustle on and off the bridge. 

Jim sidled up to the captain’s chair, in which Spock was sitting, typing furiously on his padd. Jim slowed his stride and took a moment to gaze at his husband. His eyes slid over Spock’s delicate fingers, moving quickly across his keyboard. The smooth curve of his neck, the slim set of his shoulders. His high, graceful cheekbones and strong jawline, and his dark, intelligent eyes, focused on the task at hand. It had been more than a year and a half since Jim and Spock had consistently worked the same shift, and although they missed it, they had adjusted well. Spock, acting captain during gamma shift, turned his head and watched Jim’s approach, the smallest of smiles curling the corners of his lips and his eyes brightening with affection upon spotting his husband.

“Good morning, Captain,” said Spock simply, the very picture of professionalism on the bridge.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” chirped Jim, leaning forward to give his husband a kiss on the cheek. “I dropped the kids off with Christine. How was the shift? Anything exciting happen?”

Spock gracefully rose and stepped down from the captain’s chair, and Jim twisted around and jumped up to take his place.

“Negative,” said Spock, handing over the padd. He leaned against Jim’s armrest, peering closer at the device’s screen. “We are directly on course for Alpha Centauri. Due to arrive in 2.37 days.” He brought his hand up to Jim’s shoulder and rested it there, his index finger lightly swirling patterns on the collar of Jim’s uniform, just barely brushing his neck. It was slightly out of the norm for Spock to touch him so openly on the bridge, during on-duty hours, but Jim leaned into the touch all the same.

“Excellent, Commander,” said Jim, his bright eyes sparkling, his lips mashed together in an effort to hide his smile. _He is failing, of course,_ thought Spock. He leaned over and pressed his index and middle fingers against his husbands’. _So handsome, so beautiful,_ he thought over their bond. The captain’s smile widened. He felt Jim’s thoughts slip into his mind: _Right back at ya, honey._ Spock gently moved away, returning Jim’s smile with a small one of his own.

“I will go to our quarters now, to meditate and catch up on paperwork. I will see you tonight for dinner, _ashayam_ , at 1900 hours,” Spock said, turning towards the turbolift.

“Right you are, Commander!” Jim sang at Spock’s retreating back. “Don’t be late!” Spock, who had never been late in his life, rolled his eyes at Jim as he stepped into the turbo, an amusingly exasperated expression on his face. As the doors closed, he schooled his features back to neutral, giving his husband one final quirked eyebrow.

Jim swiveled his chair towards the viewscreen at the front of the room after the turbo doors closed, chuckling. He picked up the padd and scrolled through the documents, finding nothing of pressing concern. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, anticipating a boring six hours ahead. Just as he considered comming Uhura about a discreet game of hangman (a game she always won, as she knew forty-seven languages), Jim heard the telltale sound of the turbo doors swishing open and spun around, expecting to see Spock again. Instead, he saw McCoy, scuttling suspiciously into the captain’s ready room.

“Hey, Bones!” Jim called across the bridge. “Come keep me company!”

The doctor spared him an anxious glance before disappearing. Technically, the ready room was the ship’s communications chamber, available to any crew member. Most just used their computers and padds for everyday comms though, and no one but the most senior crew ever had formal messages that justified using the room’s high tech communication equipment.

 _Weird_ , Jim thought. _He’s been acting strange all day_ . He sighed, turning his chair back around to its correct position. _He’ll come talk to me when he’s ready._ Instead of returning to his inbox, Jim jumped out of his chair and made a lap around the room, visiting his officers at their stations, too full of energy to sit still. Although he loved every part of his job, warp travel between destinations could be incredibly tedious. However, Jim often found that this was a great time to chat with his crew; he liked knowing what was going on in their lives, in their areas of study. It was important that he be an approachable authority figure, and he tried to make sure everyone knew they could always come to him with any issues.

He approached Chekov and hopped up on the navigation station, making sure to keep his butt clear of the controls and maps that flashed across the screen.

“Hey, Pavel,” he greeted, the use of his officer’s first name indicating an informal conversation. “What’s new today?” he asked, ruffling the ensign’s curls.

Chekov swatted the captain’s hand away, but gave him a smile in return. “Nothing much,” he answered. “I find myself looking forward to our shore leave on Earth!”

“Oh yeah? What kind of salacious plans have you concocted?” asked Jim, thinking Chekov would tell him about some new pleasure bar. He was, after all, just above the legal drinking age in San Francisco.

He beamed. “I cannot wait to wisit my brother and sister! I have not seen zem for quite some time.”

“What?” exclaimed Jim, taken aback. “I didn’t know you had any siblings!”

“Yes, yes I do! Zey are twins, twelve years old. Zey used to live in Russia, but ween my parents died… zey go to Starfleet boarding school in California.”

“It’s been five years! I knew about your parents… but I can’t believe I didn’t know you had a brother and a sister.”

Chekov shrugged. “It is not an easy matter to discuss. After my parents’ car accident, I had to care for zem in some way. If I joined Starfleet, zey could attend the boarding school,” he said, looking uncharacteristically somber.

Jim leaned forward, unable to stand the look on his friend’s face. 

“Hey,” he said, placing his hand on Chekov’s shoulder. “Pavel, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything-”

But Chekov shook his head. “No, no. Zank you, Jim. But zees was a long time ago. I am wery happy to be where I am today, and to see my brother and sister soon,” he said with a smile, his face brightening. “Would you like to see a photo?”

“Yes, of course!” Jim exclaimed, but Chekov was already furiously tapping his screen, searching. While he brought up the image, Jim hopped down from his seat and leaned against the navigation station next to Sulu.

“How’s it goin’ Hikaru? Excited to see Ben?”

Sulu leaned back in his seat and grinned up at Jim.

“Can’t wait. It’s been six months since we’ve been on Earth, you know that? It will be great to see them again. Demora is starting second grade in the fall,” he beamed, the smile of a proud father.

“Jim! Come see,” said Chekov, indicating his screen. 

Jim, followed by Sulu, leaned over Chekov’s shoulder to see a photo of three people standing in a shady garden. A teenage girl with curly brown hair stood in between two younger children, her hands on their shoulders. All three were laughing, and it was obvious they were related; they had the same slim nose and high cheekbones. On the right stood a boy, tall for his age. He had reddish brown hair and hazel eyes, and he smiled mischievously. On the left stood a girl with honey blonde waves and warm brown eyes, and she was giggling and clutching the older girl’s arm protectively.

Chekov leaned over the screen.

“Zees is my sister, Alina,” he said, indicating the blonde girl on the left. “And zat is Nikolai,” he declared proudly, pointing towards the boy. “I think in this photo zey are… five years old.”

Jim smiled at the photo; it was obviously very important to Chekov. He leaned closer.

“Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing at the teenage girl in the center. He glanced over at Chekov and was startled to see a deep blush color his friend’s cheeks.

“Zat is… me,” he said, looking away. “Before I transitioned.” He looked back at the photo and ran a hand through his short curls. “I have not looked at this image in a long time. My hair was so long!” He laughed, his embarrassment gone.

Chekov zoomed in on his siblings’ faces and was quiet for a moment.

“Keptain, zat is why I want to see zem. Zey have not seen what I look like now. I have missed zem,” he said, turning to look at Jim. He minimized the photo and moved it to the corner of his display. “And,” he said, smiling, “I would like to take a better picture!”

Jim laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” he said warmly.

Jim was about to continue his conversation with Chekov and Sulu when he noticed the ready room door open and McCoy slip out, making a beeline for the turbo.

“Catch you guys later,” he said to his helmsmen.

“Bones,” Jim yelled, jogging over to intercept him. “Can you hang out on the bridge for a while? It’s slow today. 

McCoy pretended to ignore him, apparently involved with his padd, and jabbed the button for the turbo again, harder.

“Bones! Did you hear me?” said Jim, coming up behind him.

“Oh! Hey, Jim,” said the doctor, turning around and pretending as if he had just noticed the captain. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

 _Something’s off,_ thought Jim.

“I _said_ , can you hang out on the bridge for a little bit? It’s awfully boring today.”

“Oh, I wish I could. But I told Christine I’d have analyzed that sample of Andorian genetic material a week ago, and it’s still sittin’ on my desk.”

The lift pinged, announcing its arrival, and the doors glided open.

“Gotta run,” said McCoy, giving Jim another fake smile.

“Okay, maybe we could catch up a little lat-” Jim started, but the doors slid shut before he could finish.

 _He’s being weird,_ Jim thought, returning to the captain’s chair. _Really weird._

He opened his communicator and fired off a quick message to the Enterprise’s nurse and, arguably, the most qualified medical officer on board.

_hey chris. did bones tell you he’d analyze some andorian dna?_

He received a reply almost instantly:

_no??? he finished that like two weeks ago. is he up to something?_

_nah,_ Jim typed back. _my b. i’ve been forgetting to ask u. he mentioned it in passing. we still on for tomorrow morn??_

Jim glanced up and stared absentmindedly through the huge viewscreen, watching the stars zoom by, as he waited for Chapel to respond. She had started the pair of them on a yoga kick a few months ago, when she had given a health lecture to the crew about fitness. They met, nearly every other morning, for an hour of yoga and gossiping. Uhura came often, as did Spock. The pair of them, ever the graceful and refined ones, were far better at the poses than Jim and Chapel, but that didn’t take any of the fun out of it. They had managed to coax or cajole nearly every one of their friends into trying it at least once, although Scotty swore he’d never return after they’d all had to help him to Sickbay; he’d strained his back trying to pose on his head.

Jim was jolted from the funny memory by a buzz from his communicator.

 _of course!! wouldn’t miss it_ came Chapel’s reply, followed by another message in quick succession: _pls come here now. your son is asking for math help. you know how good i am at math_

Jim laughed. While a brilliant woman and an amazing medical officer, Chapel was no use at calculus. Or trigonometry. Or nearly anything beyond algebra, for that matter. Back at the Academy, she’d failed nearly every math class she took. Because of her huge crush on Spock, she reached out to him to tutor her, and even though she was a year younger, she'd quickly become friends with the rest of the gang.

 _lol course i remember_ typed Jim. _i also happen to remember when you were in love with my husband._

 _JEEZ_ she replied. _will u ever give that a rest??? that was so embarrassing. and, also, like ten years ago. get over it already. you can have him_

Jim snorted. _haha, no, i refuse to give it a rest because it's hilarious. he gay as fuuuuuuuck_

Chapel' s response was instant; Jim could picture her typing furiously on her padd. _HE DIDNT EVEN KNOW THAT_ she wrote. _HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT???_

_HAHA chris i'm just teasing u <3 can u imagine how different it would be tho? if spock and i weren’t together?? _

_well, i can tell u that I certainly wouldn't be hanging out with the coolest kids ever_ came Chapel's reply. _wait. hold that thought. i think t'maia just found some chocolate. what kind of babysitter would i be if i let ur kids get drunk? i better put a stop to this. talk to ya later, kid. chapel out._

Jim sighed and tossed his communicator aside. He wasn't at all surprised by his childrens’ behavior. T'Maia was getting smarter and more charming by the day, and Sorek took every opportunity he could to be near Chapel. It was sweet, his crush on her. Jim smiled to himself, the smile of a proud parent upon being told that his kids were "the coolest kids ever".

Jim tried to while away the rest of the shift. He chatted with all his officers and did as much paperwork as he could stand. This was the boring part of the job, the part he liked least: just whiling away hours during interstellar travel. He tried to enjoy it though, because he knew that in a few short months, when the five year mission was over and he was back on Earth, he'd miss every moment of his captaincy.

He looked out the viewscreen directly ahead of him and gazed at the view. No matter how tedious space travel could be, no matter how difficult it was to command his crew, no matter how dangerous their missions were, the view alone made it all worth it. The stars zooming by, the sense of adventure and exploration and discovery. These things emboldened Jim, made him feel brave and noble and true. And so he sat there, in his happy place, committing it all to memory: the bridge of the Enterprise, his glittering gold command uniform, his friends around him and the stars ahead. 

-

Spock had encountered a problem, a difficulty he’d honestly thought he would never have to face again. _That is both unfair and illogical_ , he chided himself. _To refer to her as a problem is incorrect. More accurately, her actions have placed me in an uncomfortable situation._

Jim and Spock had enjoyed a quiet dinner in their quarters, and the children had been sent off to eat with Aunt Carol and Uncle Bones. Jim was gone, off retrieving them from Sickbay. In the soft light of their cabin’s ‘nighttime’ setting, Spock sat perched on the couch, his socked feet crossed beneath him, a padd in hand. The padd’s screen glowed brightly in the dim light, presenting Spock with a challenge he wasn’t sure how to logic his way out of.  

_Transfer Request: USS Enterprise NCC-1701 . Transfer Applicant: T’Pring; Vulcan. Intended Position: Helmsman. Starfleet Academy Recommendation: High._

Spock scanned her file again, allowing himself a short sigh of frustration. She had graduated at the top of her class and was undeniably qualified for the rigors of the Enterprise. So why did Spock find himself hesitant to approve her?

Technically, he shouldn’t even be approving transfers. He’d been working his way through the applications for a few days now, and he knew of one that was sure to delight his friends. T’Pring’s application, however, left him uncertain, a state in which he did not often find himself.

Strictly speaking, approving personnel transfers were the captain’s duty, but Jim trusted Spock, trusted him so fully and completely Spock wasn’t sure he deserved it. Especially considering that he still hadn’t told Jim about T’Pring, about their long ago betrothal, concealing all memories of her from their mind melds. It was difficult, although not impossible, to conceal from one’s bondmate, although it had never been his intention to hide such a thing from Jim. At first, when they each believed their marriage to be a sham, Spock told himself that he didn’t want to burden Jim with his own personal struggles, not when Jim had enough to deal with. Only later, once the two admitted their feelings to each other, did Spock allow himself to realize that telling Jim about T’Pring would have forced the issue, would have made him tell Jim things he hadn’t been ready to say. As their lives moved on, Spock couldn’t find the right moment to explain to Jim, and it weighed heavily on his mind.

Spock sighed in earnest and ran his hand through his hair, mussing his infamous bowl cut. In living with children (and with Jim), Spock had been forced to forgo the careful and precise way in which he had lived his life.

He found, to his surprise, that he enjoyed the messy, cluttered, loving way in which Jim and the children had invaded the starkness of his regulation cabin and made it their home. T’Maia’s artwork decorated the walls, along with Jim’s photographs of their family and friends and Sorek’s studies and tests, graded by Spock in a fat red pen. Spock found himself wearing more and more of Jim’s old, threadbare Terran clothes, and now when he applied his eyeshadow in the morning, it was almost an afterthought, a swipe of interstellar blue on his eyelids before he was forced to hurry out the door.

Spock heard footsteps in the corridor outside, followed by raucous laughter. The noise faded as the group moved down the hall, but Spock’s focus snapped back to the glowing padd in his hand. _Make a decision quickly,_ he thought. _They will be home at any minute._ Spock steeled his nerve and hit the _Accept Transfer_ button, just as a frightening and insistent beeping punctured the cabin’s still calm.

-

Everywhere Jim went, it was as if he brought a tornado along with him. He rarely walked, or sauntered, or strolled. He only _rushed_ , his movements hurried, uncontrolled, bordering on careless. Whereas doors slid open and shut smoothly for everyone else, they seemed to snap to attention whenever Jim entered or exited a room. He always turned corners too swiftly, too sharply. When he gestured, which was often, his movements created tiny gusts that could swirl the papers off desks. And when something was wrong, when he was angered or upset, it was as if Jim’s personal tornado mutated, grew, his behaviors growing even sharper and even more wild.

It was the latter version of the man that stormed into McCoy’s office that evening, Jim’s eyes crackling like blue fire, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to slam a piece of paper on the doctor’s desk. 

“What. The fuck. Is _this_ ,” Jim seethed, glaring at Bones with an expression of anger, of hurt, of betrayal.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, dropping his padd on the paper-strewn desk and sighing heavily, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He knew this was coming, and figured it would be just this bad. He knew it was a mistake, doing it this way, but how else could he break the news to Jim, his best friend?

“Is this why you’ve been acting so… so _weird_ lately?” Jim raked his hands through his hair. “Bones,” he said, his voice pained. “How could you do this?”

McCoy opened his mouth, to do what, he wasn’t sure. Try to reason with Jim, try to explain, try to turn back the clock. He was saved from formulating a response when the door slid open again and in tumbled Spock, hair rumpled and out of breath. It was evident he had just run to the office as fast as he could, and judging from his socked feet and his ratty sweatshirt, McCoy guessed he had just sprinted from his and Kirk’s quarters.

“Jim,” gasped Spock, out of breath. “I received your message. Urgent, come to the doctor’s office…” He straightened up, still breathing heavily. “I thought it was the children… What is the matter?” he asked, taking in Jim’s tight-lipped glare and McCoy’s weary gaze.

Jim took a deep breath. He leaned against the wall and gazed forlornly at Spock. “The kids are with Carol. That’s not the problem.” He turned to stare out the porthole unseeingly, twisting his fingers in the hem of his gold command uniform distractedly as the stars zoomed by, just outside the window. “Bones wants to leave. To be discharged.”

McCoy sat up in his seat and opened his mouth to explain, but Spock had straightened up instantly, as if a bolt of lightning had run through him.

“Doctor, this act is atypical of your usual behavior, and is extremely illogical, even for your standards of reason.” Spock turned. “Jim, I expect you plan to deny this request? I recommend that the doctor be given a psychological evaluation.”

McCoy stood up and pushed his chair back, about to offer a retort, but Jim responded quicker.

“Of course I’ll deny it, we can’t operate without a CMO, and he can’t just _leave_ -” Jim said, beginning to gesture towards the doctor, but he was cut short.

“Would you two idiots shut up and listen for one second?” McCoy exclaimed, slamming his hand on the desk with such force that a few papers fluttered to the floor. The two so-called idiots fell silent, and in any other situation the look of affront on Spock’s face would have been comical.

“Do you think I want to leave? I don’t have a _choice,_ ” hissed the doctor. “These four and a half years have been the best of my life. Even if I’ve spent them in this godforsaken death trap surrounded by morons like you.” McCoy looked down and let out a large sigh. “I don’t have a choice. Please, Jim. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Christine can take over my position. We both know she’s more capable than I am anyway.”

Jim stayed silent, his eyes closed, his face tilted towards the floor. Tension hung in the room, stretched thin and tight as a wire. Spock moved forward slowly and perched on the chair in front McCoy’s desk.

“Doctor,” he said softly. “If I may…” Spock shifted in his seat, drawing his legs up underneath him. “Why is it necessary that you leave the Enterprise? I believe Jim’s strong emotional reaction is a result of confusion. And I must admit, I do not see the logic in your actions either.”

McCoy sat down, his hands fluttering nervously over the scattered mess on his desk, not looking up to meet Spock’s eyes. “It’s Joanna,” he said quietly, shuffling papers. “She needs me.”

At that, Jim moved forward, crossing the room quickly with his long strides. He reached out, kneeling by the desk, gently grabbing the doctor’s shoulders and stilling his movements. “What’s wrong? What happened to Jocelyn?”

McCoy looked up, first meeting Spock’s eyes, then Jim’s. “She died. I got a comm two days ago. With her mother dead… I’m Joanna’s only legal guardian.”

“What? How can she be dead?” Jim’s face was screwed up in confusion and worry as he moved away from the doctor and began to pace near the window. “She is… she was young, and healthy.”

McCoy recounted the tale in a monotone voice. “Apparently, the divorce was harder on her than it was on me. She started drinking, and couldn’t stop. She went to rehab twice, but it didn’t help. She was driving home from the bar last week, late at night. For some reason… Joanna was in the backseat. Jocelyn swerved and hit a tree. She died instantly. But Joanna… she’s in in the hospital. She’ll be okay, eventually, but… God. It could have been so much worse.” Bones slumped onto the desk, head in his hands, as his voice began to shake. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

Spock moved forward, reaching across the desk. In a gentle, fluid motion, he circled his delicate fingers around the doctor’s wrist, forming a bracelet of sorts. Bones raised his head, and Jim was startled to see tears in his eyes.

“I believe you could use some peace, doctor,” murmured Spock. “I can project calm into your mind. I find that in emotionally compromising times, it is necessary to rely on the strength of friends.”

Bones tried to blink away tears and offered a watery smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Even Vulcans?”

Spock looked at him steadily, and spoke with reassuring grace: “Even Vulcans.”

Jim pulled up a chair and straddled it, facing the doctor. “Did you know about any of this?”

Bones gently pulled his wrist from Spock’s grasp and rubbed his eyes harshly. “No. None of it. She never would have gotten full custody if the courts had had any idea. If _I_ had had any idea.” He glanced up at Spock and Jim, his gaze weighed with sadness. “You see now? There’s no one else to take care of her. And she’s so young. She’s only seven years old. She needs a parent. She needs _me_.” The fire in the doctor’s eyes was something Spock hadn’t seen there for a long time. He was protective, determined, fierce.

“Bones,” said Jim, leaning forward. His eyebrows drew together, furrowed in concentration and worry. “What’s… why can’t you bring her here?”

“I tried. Pike was the one who gave me the news, and I asked him immediately, but… you know the rules. Children aren’t allowed on starships. Especially not one as dangerous and exploratory as the Enterprise.”

“Of course I know the rules. But there are exceptions to every rule.”

“Yes. You two.” Bones leaned back and quirked an eyebrow at Jim and Spock. “ _You’re_ the exceptions to every rule. You’re the darlings of Starfleet. None of the higher ups would refuse you, either of you, anything. Jim, how do you think you get away with so much shit?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jim began to sputter. “I don’t… we don’t-”

“No, _ashayam_ ,” interjected Spock. He was speaking to Jim but looking at the doctor, a curious expression on his face. His dark eyes glittered. “The doctor is correct. The admirals do unfairly favor us, but… we can use our influence to our advantage.” He looked at Jim finally, and absentmindedly gave him a small half smile. Spock turned his gaze to the window, and a furrow appeared between his brows. Jim smiled; he could practically see the gears turning in his brain. 

“Well, that sure is a first,” said McCoy, interrupting Jim’s lovesick gawking. “You agreeing with me.” He stood, massaging his neck. “It’s been a hell of a day. I need a drink.” He ambled over to the corner of the office, and pulled a bottle of amber liquid and a glass from a high cabinet.

“Indeed it has.” Spock stood as well, turning and offering his hand to Jim to help him out of his seat. Jim took it gladly, and the moment their fingers touched, Jim felt Spock’s emotions, tumbling through the bond at their joined hands. Worry, sly excitement, but most of all, love rushed into Jim’s mind. It was always there, whenever their mental connection opened, always overshadowing any of Spock’s other emotions. His love. Jim stood up and smiled at his husband, clutching his hand tighter and weaving their fingers together.

Jim tugged Spock towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go relieve poor Carol and collect the kids.” He turned backwards and looked at the doctor over his shoulder.

“Bones! We’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Jim called, just before the door slid shut behind him and Spock. “This isn’t over yet!”

The doctor waved him off with a flutter of his hand, turning so he faced the window. Jim didn’t see it, but a small smile came over McCoy’s face as he lifted the glass to his lips. He was grateful for his friends, even if they were morons.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! The title is inspired by the song "Flames" by Henri Pfr. A special shoutout to Audrey, Ali, and Liss for their words of encouragement and advice :) Bonus points if you noticed my Grishaverse references (I love Nikolai Lantsov, with, like... all my heart). Next chapter we get some more characters!
> 
> xoxo, Sarah


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